Oh- the day was nice. Nicer than most. And we kept driving and looking at the ocean as it appeared and disappears as it does. We were driving on Route One in Rhode Island. When the ocean was in view it was hard to breathe. The sun sparkled so violently it took your attention.
Things would have been alright if the man hadn’t shouldered dad. Dad was fine until he wasn’t. And when he wasn’t, things were fine for no one.
Dad had been in line, holding Mom’s hand. I saw it all happen. The man looked at mom. The way men look at women. Dad pretended to not see. But he did. Dad was looking up and away from the man. The man set his eyes level with Mom’s and smirked, thinking something. Then he shouldered dad. Clear as day.
Dad turned nicely to mom. His eyes knew so much. Mom gave the nod.
I tried watching, but mom held my head tucked in her arms. She even took hold of my nose. I couldn’t see anything and I couldn’t breathe through my nose.
It didn’t take long. We were back in the car and the ocean was again winking at us and it seemed nothing had happened at all.
Thank you for reading. If you’d like to read more of my writing, please consider my self published short story found via the link below.
Her bare back was beautiful. Dark hair crossed her forehead to her shoulders and down. Further even. She was asleep. He wanted a drink. If he made it without sound he’d be fine. If she woke, it would be too soon. He poured the whisky on top of the ice. Then he poured the sweet vermouth. He mixed the drink with his finger. It was eight am. The sun had been up and he’d hoped to been on a walk by now. She hadn’t yet woken and she breathed so quietly he wasn’t sure she was alive. The drink was smooth feeling going down his throat. He’d make egg sandwiches for both of them. He’d use the cast iron because it looked the best when in use. If he did it right he’d be able to display breakfast on the bed before her eyes opened. It’s possible he’d be on his second. He’d also make her one. Then they could both enjoy the morning when the morning was what it was suppose to be.
You could smell it. The freshness. The cool-crisp taste transferring from your nose to your tongue. It would snow today. The clouds would become darker, heavier even, and would produce moisture and eventually droplets of ice forming around particles of dust and the ice would drop and form into flakes of snow. Later he would stand outside and let the snow flakes land on his face. He wanted to know the storm like he knew the land around him. He’d walked the woods and surrounding farmlands, with their brooks and stone walls, his entire life. He knew the sounds of the forest; the creatures that are loudest at night, and the slightest of foot were sometimes the largest predators. He knew where, deep in the woods, a canopy of trees opened perfectly as though it were an eye focused upward and forcing him to truly focus. Yes, he wanted to know the storm as he knew the land, and the storm would need to be welcomed.
copyright 2016 -M. Taggart
Thank you for reading and Cheers!
I invite you to learn about my self published book.